


Split Paths

by GhostHost



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Not shattered glass, Ratchet becomes the 'Cons CMO, but a slight tweaking of character for Op and Megs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:09:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHost/pseuds/GhostHost
Summary: If things had gone a bit differently, if Megatron had listened a little more and Optimus had listened a little less...Ratchet would have joined the Decepticon's.(Deadlock's pretty thankful for it.)





	Split Paths

God only knows,

We don't need ghost stories.

 

Split Paths

* * *

 

Ratchet had met a lot of mechs since opening his little clinic, and not one of them had left the impression Drift had. If asked, Ratchet knew he couldn’t even explain it, or why Drift felt so special to him.

The kid just...was.

It was the reason he’d referred him to Orion. Drift had the instincts to be an excellent investigator, if not an outright cop. Security at the very least. Orion would know better than Ratchet would--he’d have been able to point the kid in the right direction.

“Who--Oh. _Him_ , yes, he’s got all he needs to succeed, now.” Orion had said with a shrug, when Ratchet asked him about it a week later.

It was a typical Orion answer--not forthcoming in the slightest--but Ratchet trusted his best friend.

Drift had been looked after.

xXx

“No.” Orion was saying, voice growing louder. Megatronus and Ratchet traded looks, both worried about the racket their friend was creating. “I _don’t_ agree. I don’t think this is the way to go about this at all!”

“I’m open to other options.” Megatronus said, his deep voice pitched to soothe. “But I think whatever it is we do needs to be done soon, or I fear someone else will act for us.”

“If you have the control you claim to have on your people, then nothing will happen unless you authorize it.” Orion snapped, engine kicking to life with a growl. Ratchet frowned at him, before replacing it with a hand he hoped would help calm his friend.

Orion shrugged it off.

Stung, Ratchet retracted his hand, optics wide at the rejection--and the anger pouring out of his friends field. He’d never seen Orion act like this--but then, his processor reminded him, they’d never tried to plan a rebellion before.

Emotions. It was just--high emotions. That was all.

Megatronus seemed to realize it too.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation later.” Megatronus said, sitting back. “After I talk to _my_ people.” ‘My’ was emphasized, not that Orion seemed to pick up on it.

“Agreed.” Orion spat, before shooting to his pedes and storming out the bar.

Ratchet rose to follow, field still reeling in shock, but a grey hand stopped him. The medic shot him a questioning look, and he got a small smile in return.

“Perhaps it would be best to leave him alone.” Megatronus murmured; “Besides I think we could both use a drink. My treat?”

Ratchet cast a look at Orion’s retreating back, before heaving a sigh through his vents.

“Alright.” He said, sitting back down. “But only if you let me buy the second round.”

The miner’s smile grew. “Deal.”

xXx

Things were growing worse.

Ratchet had never feared for his safety in Dead End, not when he was a resource for so many of it’s permanent residents.

Today though…

He wasn’t surprised when his comm pinged, with a request to walk him home.

He was surprised at the caller.

“Orion didn’t call you?” Megatronus asked later, after insisting Ratchet absolutely did need someone to walk him home, there were riots in the streets for frags sake!

“No, but I am sure he’s busy.” Ratchet said, waving a hand to indicate he meant with the aforementioned riots, “Seeing as the Prime’s appeared to have been murdered and all.”

“He still should have called you.” The miner said, disapprovingly. “You’re a close friend in a high risk area.The least he could have done was checked in on you.”

Ratchet shrugged. “I can handle myself, Orion knows that.”

He pretended not to catch the look the miner sent him, just as he pretended he truly was fine.

Just as everyone was.

 

xXx

“All hail Optimus Prime!” The cloud screamed, repeating what the clerk had announced moments before.

Ratchet stood proudly in the crowd, watching his new friend be crowned.

Megatronus stood next to him.

Both told each other this was a step in the right direction. This would go a long way towards fixing things.

Neither of them believed it.

 

xXx

The clinic had been broken into.

Again.

Ratchet frowned, scrubbing through the security feeds. The cameras were new--he’d never needed them before. Now though….well. They weren’t there so much for protection as they were for an advanced warning.

Too many individuals had been poking around his clinic lately, and Ratchet had a bad feeling they were related not to the locals, but to the rebuilding Functionalist Council.

A flash of white plating on the screen caught his attention. White plating on an achingly familiar frame and Ratchet’s vents caught when he realized who he was staring at.

He’d hit up Optimus’s personal comm before he even realized he’d done it.

xXx

“I told you not to use this unless it was an emergency.” Optimus said, optics down-turned along with his newly formed mouth.

“This is an emergency!” Ratchet spat back, emotions rolling in his field. “I thought you gave Drift a job!”

“Job’s aren’t like candy Ratchet, you can’t just toss them out to whoever you feel like.” Optimus said, exasperated. “I talked to the kid about his options and gave him some ideas of where he could apply for employment. He clearly decided being a druggie was easier. Case closed.”

“I sent him to you so you could help him!” Ratchet exclaimed, upset. “So he could use you as a reference for the academy, or at least recommend him to one of those bar owners who are always looking for security!” Something! Primus, Drift had shown an interest in being a cop, and that had been _rare_ back then, before everything had been blown to bits!

Optimus rolled his optics. “He wasn’t fit for the academy, Ratchet. He was a drug addict. Those people don’t want help. Someday you’ll realize that and stop wasting your time on them.”

Fury built, a kind Ratchet had felt a thousand times but never once directed at his oldest friend. “Was that what you were doing with Megatronus? Wasting your time?” He snarled, and almost instantly, regretted it. Megatronus and Optimus had more more than friends, and poking at that and their rather explosive end wasn’t the best idea.

He wasn’t expecting the best response to that, but the coldly furious; “Yes I was.” Startled him.

“Now unless you have real business, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Tone implying that “ask” was more of a demand.

Ratchet started for a moment at his friend. It was clear--no matter what he did from here, Optimus no longer had a need for him. Not as a medical officer--and more importantly, not as a friend.

“Gladly.” He said, his own voice sounding cold--and far away.

He wasn’t even out of the building before he’d called Megatronus’s comm.

xXx

They were at war.

This wasn’t surprising to anyone--at least, anyone who wasn’t under the Council’s thumb.

The Dececpticons had started as a ragtag bunch--miners and retail workers, seekers and the rest of the stepped-on lower classes. They had grown though, rapidly and frantically and now Ratchet wore the purple badge proudly.

Megatron was finishing a speech, standing on a stage this time instead of on a table (or a chair, or an oil drum, or once even, the vehicle mode of a rather large tank.) to the next round of new recruits, and those who had journeyed from the other cities. Several of these mechs Megatron was giving promotions too, both in recognition of work done and to help further order the army they had become.

Cheers broke out and Ratchet returned his focus to the present, to see Megatron had stopped, and was making his way towards him. Two mechs trailed him. One Ratchet recognized as Starscream--the seeker Megatron had been working on recruiting since the mech had taken on the Functionalist Council by himself--and the other--

The other was _Drift._

“Starscream, Deadlock, this is my Chief Medical Officer, Ratchet. Ratchet this is--”

“Drift!” Ratchet said, ignoring his commander entirely, watching as the other mech’s optics popped (just as wide as Ratchet’s own.) “You’re alive!”

“Ratchet.” Drift said, saying the medic’s name like a prayer. He had a deadly air about him now that was rapidly disintegrating into something else entirely, and both strode forward until they were close enough to touch.

“I’m so sorry,” Ratchet bit out immediately, “I trusted Optimus, I trusted _Orion-_ -”

Deadlock interrupted him by slamming their mouths together.

Which was an entirely new development but one Ratchet was immediately on board with.  Particularly if Drift was “the” Deadlock Megatron had been going on and on about.

“Don’t care.” The gunner gasped, when he finally released the medic, “You’re here.” Red optics narrowed, Deadlock’s tone switching to something more possessive as he added; “You’re _mine.”_

That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, the claws pricking his armor should have been threatening instead of thrilling and yet, the chills racing down Ratchet’s spinal strut were the kind that served to rev him up instead of freak him out.

“Yours.” Ratchet tried out, and shivered when Deadlock’s field blasted him with the mech’s arousal.

He was quickly slammed into a kiss again, the fierce possessiveness adding a new layer to their makeout.

“I can see why neither of them made the cut for Second in Command.” Starscream drawled, hiding a smile behind a hand.

“Neither of them have your experience in herding mechs around.” Megatron replied, equally amused. Louder he said; “Deadlock, don’t ravish my medic completely, I need him for a meeting.”

He was firmly ignored.

 


End file.
